


Soon

by InnerSpectrum



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Halloween, Johnlock - Freeform, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: John Watson wakes from a nightmare or is it?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 19
Kudos: 42
Collections: Spooky Johnlock Collection





	Soon

John’s eyes flutter open slowly in his dark room. It was a surprisingly warm afternoon, but there’s a slight chill to the autumn night. It feels good to his overheated body as he starts to kick the covers off when he suddenly freezes. Without really thinking about it he automatically looks to his chair by the window as sees a familiar curly-haired silhouette.

“What are you doing now, Sherlock?”

“Waiting for you,” the familiar voice is heard in the dark.

John knows he should be annoyed, but he has long since resigned himself to his flatmate’s near blatant disregard for personal boundaries between the two of them. It is not the first time; it won’t be the last.

“Waiting for me? To do what?” he sighed.

“Don’t be dull, John. You know what.”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“John please…” Sherlock sniffed annoyed at what they both know is a lie. “You’ve seen. You’ve observed. You deny it, oh, but you _know_ what.”

There’s a shifting in the shadows. John cannot really see the movements, but he knows Sherlock has uncrossed his long legs in preparation to stand.

To approach him.

“Noooo…” John shakes his head in denial.

“Why do you resist me?” Sherlock stands and approaches him.

“I don’t want…” John whispers weakly.

He finds he cannot move. That is not true. He can move.

He does not want to.

“Why do you lie?” Sherlock’s voice rumbles amused at the falsehood.

“I don’t …” John’s whisper is even more weak as he rises to his knees on the bed.

“You do, John… You do lie... You do want…” Sherlock’s velvet cello baritone whispers.

Sherlock's pale hand reaches out but stops just short.

“John…” the velvet voice entices as he stops by the bed. Sherlock is in shadow, yet John can see those ever-mercurial eyes alight with mischief and desire.

“I don’t…” John cannot make himself say the rest.

“…want to say no.” Sherlock finishes the unspoken.

John trembles in the utter truth of it.

They are close enough that John all but feels the thrum of Sherlock’s body in excitement. Still, he knows Sherlock will not touch him.

Not that way.

Not as a lover.

Not until John touches him that way first.

Not until John says _Yes_.

“Oh John…” Sherlock’s breath is chilling against his cheek.

With a start John realizes Sherlock’s shirt is unbuttoned, the aubergine one that shows off his near otherworldly pale complexion to perfection. John would have sworn it was buttoned a moment ago, but he’s mesmerized by the single mole on one side of the neck, the ones that resemble Orion’s belt on the other side. His eyes cannot help but travel the expanse of muscled chest, the taunt belly and the tiniest hint of the trail of dark hair exposed to him.

“Sherlock…” John whispers desperately. He feels how his own heartbeat thunders under his skin…

It thunders in want…

It thunders in warning…

“John!” He barely hears Sherlock’s desperate whine of want over it.

He vaguely remembers there was a reason he should resist. Though for the life of him he cannot think why as his hand slowly raises.

“Say it…!” Sherlock angles his head in anticipation his large outstretched hands waiting to touch him.

“YES!” John cries touching Sherlock at last. “YES!”

“FOOL!” Sherlock snarls as he ensnares John in a tight grip of surprising strength as his mouth opens impossibly wide with two impossibly long canines.

Too late all the reasons why he resisted fly through John’s mind as Sherlock head swiftly lowers.

 _God forgive me, I want this!_ is the last coherent thought John has as Sherlock’s fangs sink into his neck.

~~~~ 

John bolts upright alone in his bed screaming.

He is tangled in his duvet and screams more kicking out of it.

“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” he pants in large gulps; his hand goes to his wet neck.

“It’s only sweat… It’s only a dream…” he stares at the clear moisture wiped away.

Some part of him realizes the loud thumping he hears is not just his heart, but footfalls on the stairs coming closer. It is the only thing that keeps him from screaming anew as Sherlock suddenly appears opening his door a moment later and flicks on the lights, a wild expression in his eyes.

“Sorry Sherlock. I’m fine.” John squints in the sudden brightness and waves a dismissive hand.

Sherlock raises a brow.

“No seriously. Not PTSD this time. Some bloody weird as fuck vampire nightmare.” John purposely ignores Sherlock's opened aubergine shirt that makes him shiver and pulls at the duvet to cover himself again, “I’m fine... I’m fine!”

Sherlock nods and shuts off the light as John lets himself fall back down upon his pillows.

“It’s only a dream…” John repeats and closes his eyes as he thinks of his flatmate’s bare chest.

The bare chest under the purple shirt that was just like the dream.

He sighs loudly unsure if it is in relief…

…or disappointment.

John at wipes the moisture the other side of his neck.

He does not notice that this time the moisture is not quite as clear.

He does not notice his sense of everything is improving, increasing.

Above all he does not notice the pink tongue that licks the blood from the rapidly receding canines of a far too toothy grin as Sherlock closes the door knowingly.

_Halfway there, he’ll be mine, soon!_


End file.
